bloodstained crowns
by MedusaOfTheSpecies
Summary: Under their watchful eyes, the world burns. :: Ginny/Pansy, of vengeance and death.


Written for the Triwizard Tournament, representing house Gryffindor. Prompts: (genre) crime, (dialogue) "Are you trying to annoy me or are you always this stupid?", (word) shield, (dialogue) "Get out of my way or you'll regret it," the Gardening Assignment (write about someone making a plan) and Gobstones: Silver Stone, (colour) forest green, (setting) library, (colour) chestnut brown.

 _ **0.**_

 _There has been an infinity of moments where even the mightiest have fallen, but never like this._

 _There are no details murkier than the ones behind the fall of house Weasley._

 _There is nothing left behind of that day, except for a girl with eyes that blaze like hellfire, a desire for vengeance burning in the coils of her veins._

 _ **1.**_

"House Weasley has fallen," a lady remarks to her husband, who nods in smug satisfaction, his eyes distant and already plotting what this will mean.

"House Weasley has fallen," bleeds its way down to the darkest corners of Knockturn Alley, where the civilized do not dare enter.

"House Weasley has fallen," is heard in the courts of Wizengamot, an eerie whisper that causes everyone in attendance to shiver.

In the comfort of his manor home, Lord Parkinson leans back into his chair, inhaling the feeling of his success.

 _ **2.**_

This is not an ode to a fairytale, where a young girl becomes a princess and gets saved by the will of her own wishes, where the ending is sugarcoated, fantasies served on a silver plate.

If this was a tale, it would be one of revenge and passion and the toxic care behind murder.

If this was a tale, Ginny Weasley would be not a princess but the darkest of queens.

If this was a fairytale, the ending would be poison sweet.

 _ **3.**_

On the eve of her sixteenth birthday, Lord Parkinson takes aside his daughter after a silent family dinner punctuated with hatred-filled gazes and darkness lurking in the bottomless pit of all the member's eyes.

"Your mother has been caught having an affair," her father states coldly, not waiting for her to react. "You understand what this means. I expect you not to create a scene."

Pansy does not take the bait. A lifetime of being a member of a society where a wrong move leads to ostracization has taught her the meaning of a misspoken word.

"I understand, father," she says and her voice is dangerously cold. "No inheritance for me, then. I expect you will divorce mother and have a new heir?"

Her father nods sharply at her words before turning and leaving Pansy standing alone in the hallway.

It is the first mistake on the chessboard of war. Lord Parkinson never sees the danger in the plotting smirk on his daughter's face nor the way her rage is contained in curled fists.

He turns far too fast and does not see the cold eyes of a woman plotting his death.

 _ **4.**_

Aunt Muriel is dreadful and bigoted and Ginevra Weasley spends most summers plotting her escape with a bitter mood.

Hogwarts is no better—the magic she learns doing Charms questions is nothing compared to the kind she reads on the nights she sneaks into the restricted section, fueled with nothing but her sharp mind and dark desires.

At night, she dreams of her parent's love and her brother's screams as her family turns to nothing but ash.

 _ **5.**_

Pansy Parkinson knows blackmail the way a child knows the alphabet, careless knowledge that has been imprinted in her brain since she was old enough to form her first words.

Her father has set up safety measures for his files, but blood runs pure and it takes only a slice of her pinky fingers to open up a new path for her. It almost hurts her, the way her father underestimates her abilities, but it is an advantage this time: he thinks of her as nothing but a porcelain doll and she will unleash hell for his mistakes.

 _Revenge is sweet,_ Pansy consoles herself as she drowns the voices in her head with the knowledge of how her father made an empire fall with eight deaths.

 _ **6.**_

Ginny has no friends in Hogwarts. Sure, she has a few tagalongs, her own ragtag team of misfits—Neville, who fails at living up to his parent's legacy out of his own fears, Luna, who sees the world in a way nobody else wants to, Hermione, who gets on with books far better than with people, Harry, who's mouth gets ahead of his mind most days—but they are not her family, the people she would die for.

The day Pansy Parkinson approaches her, Ginny has all four of them by her side.

"You four," she commands, gesturing to the other four. "Go away, now. I need to talk to Weasley alone."

Hermione sniffs haughtily, stepping in front of Ginny in a pathetic move to protect her. Ginny knows Hermione Granger may be considered the brightest witch of her era, but Pansy Parkinson is as dangerous a coiled snake ready to spring.

"You can't tell us what to do," Hermione shoots back and Ginny tries not to roll her eyes.

"Are you trying to annoy me or are you always this stupid?" Pansy Parkinson asks casually, her words dropping down like curses. "Weasley is not in need of you to be her shield. Now, get out of my way or you'll regret it."

Ginny sighs, waving her friends away. They move slowly, shooting her questioning glances— _she does not need their help or their kindness—_ but she simply smiles and they leave.

Pansy waits until everyone surrounding is out of earshot before leaning closer to Ginny's ear and whispering, "you have them trained well, I see."

Chills run down Ginny's arms at the feeling of warm breath on her body. "Jealous?" Ginny snarks back.

Pansy smiles, a twisted curve of her lips that promises something perilous. "Possibly. Though I must say, I prefer my minions cunning instead of foolishly noble."

Ginny almost lets out a smile at that but she is quick to catch herself. You cannot let your guard down surrounded by a viper. "What do you want, Parkinson?"

"Straight to the point, I see." Pansy twirls a lock of black hair around her finger and Ginny is suddenly aware of how close they are, bodies merely a few centimeters apart. "Well then, how about this, Weasley—how would you like to kill the person responsible for the death of your family?"

 _ **7.**_

Once upon a time, somebody said that there was nothing worse than paying for your sins for an eternity, burning in a hell that no human language can even come close to describing.

But tell me this—why go to hell if all the damned are already here?

 _ **8.**_

"What are you getting out of this?" Ginny whispers, painfully aware of the way the world has stilled around them.

Pansy's smile is all teeth and threats sharper than the edge of knives. "Let's just say my father and I have a debt to settle."

 _ **9.**_

Libraries are a place of education and nobody pays attention to two huddled girls despite their statuses. It is well known that Pansy Parkinson and Ginny Weasley, Lion and Snake, have an odd friendship struck out of nowhere, but few dare to ask and none get answers.

"Poison?' Ginny asks, chewing the edge of her quill with a practiced grace.

Pansy laughs in agreement and Ginny is painfully aware of the way her forest green robes look against her black hair, almost chestnut brown in the harsh library lighting.

"Poison and humiliation," Pansy contributes and Ginny's heart beats rapidly against her chest like the drumming beginnings of a war drum.

 _ **10.**_

 _Murder._

It has a vicious sort of beauty in the rhythm of it.

 _ **11.**_

"Pansy," her father thunders. "How dare you disgrace house Parkinson by making the acquaintance of a Weasley?"

Pansy looks up slowly, her blood boiling in her veins. Her smile is a perfect mockery, Cheshire cat gone rogue. "She is useful to me."

He doesn't understand then, but fate always takes what it is due.

 _ **12.**_

"A perfect crime is one that is never committed, yes?" Ginny remarks idly, her feet on a desk. Madam Pince view of the two girls is blocked, otherwise Ginny would have long been dead.

"A perfect crime is one where you are never caught, but the world remembers forever. Your morals have no place here."

"That's not what I meant," Ginny began, "I would never back out."

Pansy frowns, her aristocratic features furrowing together before a charming cruelty replaces her confusion. "Make it look like a suicide, you mean."

Ginny doesn't answer, but her words explain themselves as the world bends to their shared will.

 _ **13.**_

Arcturus Parkinson dies bloody, his smile gone wobbly when he drinks from a poisoned goblet at a society ball.

 _Suicide,_ the people whisper, for what other reason would a man collapse when everyone else drank the same wine? Surely, no one would murder such a good man!

 _ **14.**_

'A perfect crime," Ginny toasts, raising her goblet in a golden grace.

"A terrible accident," Pansy admonishes, her words a snake-like hiss.

Ginny's smirk is a vicious, bloodthirsty thing. "My mistake. Lady Parkinson, what will you be doing with your hard earned money?"

"Many things," Pansy begins, "but I need a partner. Empires need queens."

Ginny does not answer, but her lips clash against Pansy's in a hungry agreement. Every word said is one recorded. The walls have ears, but there is no reason to talk in this consensus.

 _ **0.**_

Under their careful eye, the world burns.


End file.
